


The Life of a Broken

by livelove_write



Category: The Life of a Broken
Genre: After death, Depressing, Earth, Gen, Love, New love, Paranormal, Sad, Sadness, Spirit - Freeform, Suicide, Supernatural - Freeform, depressed, feel good, finding who you are, happiness, kill, kill yourself, who to love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelove_write/pseuds/livelove_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>--------------------------------<br/>Hey guys! hope you enjoy! Make sure you comment what you think and vote for me!<br/>~ Xoxo Paige<br/>--------------------------------</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sonny_Ball](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny_Ball/gifts).



> \--------------------------------  
> Hey guys! hope you enjoy! Make sure you comment what you think and vote for me!  
> ~ Xoxo Paige  
> \--------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--------------------------   
> I hope you enjoyed my 'teaser trailer'! Haha keep reading and comment what you think and don't forget to vote!
> 
> ~ xoxo Paige  
> \--------------------------

\- Chapter One -

"Melanie Croft" the monotonous voice rings through the large warehouse where every Broken is housed. I walk to the desk at the end of the building.

The grey woman sitting behind the slab of wood hands me a folder, which holds my new project. I grab it and walk away without saying a word. Without making eye contact with any other Broken, I make my way back to my bunk, where I open the folder to study my new project.

The man who's solemn picture is staring back at me is a middle aged man who's wife left him, and both his daughters have died. He lives on the street and has no job. He seems prefect for a Broken.

The job of a Broken is to persuade people to put themselves out of their own misery. We have the power to whisper into their minds about how peaceful it would be, to live in a better world.

Lies.

We help them seclude themselves from the world. Making death more desirable.

Lies.

We then hold their hand as they make the short passage to the Land of the Broken. That's our job. We have to do this in order to gain our right for our Judgment.

There is a Heaven, there is a Hell, and then there is the Land of the Broken where mortals who take their own lives are bound to stay until they repay their way to Judgment. Judgment is where God decides wether you stay with him in Heaven or if he'll banish you to Hell. We only get this privilege when we complete our time in The Land of the Broken.

I flip my folder over and over in my hands while I wait for my turn through the Passage. The Passage is the only way Broken can get to the mortal world to complete their projects.

I look around at the Broken that are clustered in a group beside me. They all wear the same scowl, and all have the stream of tears running down their face and the same tattered uniform. I'm sure I'm the only one who noticed how pathetic we are. This is what we get for deciding life was to horrible to live for, I guess.

The line slowly moves forward, and I remind myself of what date it is in the mortal world. 8/31/13. Time isn't real in the Land of the Broken. We just have bunks to sit in when we don't have anything to do. There is no sun, just the same grey sky, same grey fog. Yet, I am sure I am the only one who realizes these things. The teenage girl in the bunk beside mine killed herself in 2010. One hundred and fifty years after mine. She always talks about how horrible her mortal life was, in the same monotonous tone every other Broken speaks in. Yet I stay silent. I will stay here for a very long time. I committed suicide merely because I didn't like my living situation. I was a selfish girl. And now I realize my mistake.

The line has been moving and it is my turn through the Passage. I look through the small hole in the air, and see pure blackness. Without a second thought, I jump through and I feel a slight sensation of ripping through my head. Then I land perfectly, without toppling over. I grip my folder with a tight hand, and think about the place where my project is located. Some small town in a place called Kansas. When I close my eyes, I transport to that place, and appear right outside the bar of which he is in at this moment, probably wasting away his life with what little money he has.

I open the door to the pub, yet the mortals are not aware of my presence, and make my way over to my project. I accidentally step on a mans shoe, but then realize that he can't feel me, or see me.

When I stand beside him, I see what I saw in the picture. A slouching, scowling, sagging man. I feel my own scowl set deeper into my skin. Broken are not supposed to feel any other emotion besides grief. They get the rest of their emotions once they complete Judgment. Yet, unfortunately, I do feel emotions. But I keep this trait to myself.

I slowly place my hand on his shoulder. This begins the process. As I do this, he feels a heavier sensation of loneliness. He shrinks into himself a little bit, then curls up in his booth. He probably drank a lot tonight, so he's asleep for good.

I sit across from him in his booth, staring, waiting for him to wake up, so I can complete my duties.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-------------------------------  
> Hey guys! I'm glad a few of you are enjoying Melanie's story so far! I'm gonna need some motivation to keep writing, though. So tell me what you think and vote!
> 
> Xoxo - Paige   
> \--------------------------------

~ Chapter Two ~

I sit and continue to watch this man, as his breathing becomes irregular with lighter sleep. While he was sleeping, though, I observed other men and occasionally women who walked through this bar. One woman brought kids in with her, with a look on her face I could recognize as worry; one of the few emotions I have that other Broken don't. She asked other men if they had seen someone who I could only guess as her husband. She didn't get any luck, and walked out quickly. Then there was a man who kept trying to charm the bartender. He was too drunken to be charming in any way, and then he groped her. My eyes widened as I watched the police man take him away from the premises after she loudly told him to stop. Other than that, nothing much happened except for that same bartender trying to come over to my Project as wake him up. It didn't work, though. He will be out for a while still, even in this light sleep. I can sense the amount of alcohol surging through his veins is too high, and he will have a six hour long hangover tomorrow.

I sit for another hour and twenty four minutes, watching him intently, every move he makes. The lady walks over and shakes him continuously, until he wakes up fully.

"Ok hun. Its closing time. Head on your way."

The bartender moves out of his way so he can get up, leaving his empty beer bottle behind. I follow him, passing through the bartender who is already cleaning his table, which makes a shiver run down her spine. The man cumbersomely makes it through the doorway, and then onto the sidewalk. He dips and sways as he walks. I'm glad it's late at night, because he won't get arrested for being drunk in public.

He makes his way to an alleyway between some buildings downtown, and I see where he regularly comes. There are empty food cans, old torn up books and a few torn pictures in a box. They appear to be of his family that left him behind.

He is so drunk, that it's actually starting to effect my senses. Broken are physically, mentally, (and emotionally; for me) connected to their Projects, if their feelings are strong enough. But my mind is starting to get fuzzy. He sits beside a dumpster, and I stand over him. I watch him, all of his movements, as a tear rolls down his cheek. Then another. And then another. Until a stream starts continuously falling. He tries to stop, choking for air and making heaving breaths. I crouch back on my heels and reach a hand out to touch his face. He starts to calm down. I wipe away the tears with each thumb, and the feeling of sadness he has is replaced by anger and grief. So much to which he can't cry. It gives him a false relief until his feeling really hit him, but that won't be until he starts to think about his past. He starts to look through the box, and crumples up each of the pictures. I see two little girls holding hands in bright dresses, and then an older woman with a bright smile displayed across her face. He's reminiscing on what he had. I then see a picture of a car that is mauled beyond repair, and I piece together his past. His wife survived a fatal car accident, and his daughters did not. Sad.

He throws the box full of photos against the wall across from him with a scream of outrage. He stands up and kicks the box continuously, then breaks down in tears again.

He is one stubborn person.

I walk over to him, where he threw himself after his fit of outrage, and watch him cry. I can't do anything for him now, I just have to wait for this fit to be over with, since my first try didn't work. I'll have to try something else. But instead of stopping, he cried himself to sleep, right on the cold concrete. I look up at the sky, and then back down at him. It will be morning light in a few hours. He will wake up then. He finished crying, and i sit beside him, taking my jacket off as I get comfortable. I put my jacket over him, as if to make him warmer on this chilly looking night. But instead, it makes him very cold. He shivers, and this will make up for the tears. He will have nightmares of his past, in the few hours of sleep he will get.

I sit back against the wall, and watch him, waiting for him to wake up. Then, I will continue my process, and it won't take very long for me to complete it either. So I continue to wait, watching him shiver in the darkness.


	3. -Prologue-

\- Prologue -

I set down my quill and cap my ink. I look down at my parchment and let a single tear roll down my cheek. It lands on the paper and smudges a couple pristine cursive letters. I look into the mirror to see myself for the last time. As I pick up the parchment holding my last words, I read them in my mind.

Dear family,

I will miss each of you dearly, but Life is simply too much to bear. I've lost everything. Yet I will find more in heaven. Please do not mourn over me, for that would bring sadness to my soul. So please live your merry way.

~ Melanie

I put the parchment on the bedside table and make my way to the stool and rope I had already waiting. I slowly stand on the stool and slip my head through the loop of my noose. I say a final prayer, and kick the stool from under my feet. I feel the noose tighten quickly around my neck, and I choke for air. I feel my heartbeat slowing, and tears stream down my face. Yet it is too late. My panic subsides, and the world fades to black.

I wake on dirt ground. My favorite Sunday dress and shoes are torn and tattered. When I look at my chest, I feel panicked. I'm not breathing. I'm alive, yet not breathing. I look at my surroundings and see a rusty gate in front of me. I slowly make it to my feet and walk to the gate. Once I open it and walk through, I am greeted by a middle aged man with a sagging face. It's hard to see him through the surrounding fog, but he has wrinkles where I thought no one could get wrinkles. He speaks, and it is gravelly, as if he hadn't spoken for a thousand years.

"Welcome to the Land of the Broken."

(THIS IS COPYRIGHTED TO NO RETURN I DARE YOU TO TRY AND TAKE THIS I WILL BEAT YOU MYSELF love you dolls <3)


End file.
